The Language of Flowers
by Moth Gypsy
Summary: Young Walter Girlycard, yaoi. Their adventures and misdemeanors, that is, their time together before Alucard was sealed away. Those naughty children.
1. Poppy

Title: Unintended

Rating: R  
Warnings: Spoilers? Language, violence, male/male themes.

Disclaimer: Hellsing and it's characters do not belong to me and I make no profit from any of this.  
Summary: The story we didn't get of from when Walter and Alucard first met, up until the point where Alucard is sealed away. A/W.

Title name is from the song "Unintended" by the band Muse. Listen to it. I wanted to write Girlycard/YoungWalter because there is so little of it u.u which makes me sad. I hope that in return the internets will give birth to moar girlycard goodness. This is my first attempt at writing anything Hellsing, so I hope I didn't butcher it. I haven't brushed up on the fandom in awhile, either, and I haven't even read _The Dawn_. So. Forgive me. (/excuses) If you have your own Hellsing fics, or know any good ones, please tell me. We can swap (or you can just check my favorites list, theres quite a few) :p

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Unintended

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_Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare,_

_And left the flushed print in a poppy there:_

_Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came,_

_And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame._

**W**alter rose from bed as the faintest traces of sunlight began to reach across the sky. He neatly folded the covers into place before moving to the adjacent washroom. Once cleaned and dressed, he walked silently down the halls of the Hellsing manor until he reached the kitchen.

Inside a friendly face greeted him, the family cook, Mrs. Gourdon. She was a round and jovial woman, despite being widowed at the age of forty-seven.

"Morning dear, you're up early." She said, turning to him and wiping her hands upon her apron.

Walter nodded politely to her and snatched a piece of bread from the pantry, "I'm always up this early."

"Would you like some pancakes?"

"I'm good," he set the bread in the toaster and pushed the button down, "but thank you." He could feel her frowning disapproval and anticipated her next words.

"Are you sure? It wouldn't be any problem. Just that's not enough for a growing boy."

"It's alright, really. Toast is fine." Walter smiled in a way that he hoped was reassuring, but judging by the concerned expression upon Mrs. Gourdon's face, must have been something more like _"I'm a poor, starving child, in desperate need of a mothers affection and a four course meal."_

The toast popped up, no longer spongy bread, and he shoved it half into his mouth before all but running out, waving goodbye over his shoulder. Today was a special day, and while under normal circumstances he would have a whole list of tasks to accomplish, as well as lectures and classes to attend, Arthur had given him strict instructions. He was to report at seven AM sharp to Sir. Arthur's office, where he would be meeting someone "of great importance and pinnacle stature in the profession of combating the undead."

Walter didn't care much for appearances or titles, but the description had peaked his interest. What's more, Arthur had made it clear that the sole purpose of the meeting was to introduce Walter to this famed Hunter, although he had not mentioned the man's name.

So Walter was a little bit curious. And he tried to make himself humble, but could not help but wonder if he would be stronger or weaker than this man.

Completely alert for any signs of a foreign presence, he walked down the lushly carpeted halls, no longer noting the extravagant furnishings and gilt framed portraits that seemed to peer at passerbys with a stern scrutiny. He wondered what the meeting would be like. Would this man look like the classical Vampire Hunter, with broad brimmed hat and long dark cloak, or would he be discreetly modern like Walter himself?

Perhaps, after being introduced, they would do battle. Or maybe Arthur would have them go on a hunt together in order to demonstrate Hellsing's prime weapon. These thoughts were foolish and prideful, which made him disgusted with himself, and he knew that if any such things were to actually take place, he would be embarrassed even through his pride. But still, which of them would be stronger?

He reached the oaken double doors that led to Arthur's study. He gazed at the grain of the wood and listened to the reverberating silence of the manor.

He could now _feel_ the presence of the other person, the looming figure, who waited beyond the doors. It seemed as though a he could see through the solid wood and into the room lined with shelves of books and heavy furniture. He could see the flickering fire place and the desk where Arthur sat, hands folded and eyes serious. And interwoven throughout it all, staining every strand and fiber down to the molecular level, he could see a blackness like disease.

He pushed the doors open, his senses picking up the sound of the wood as it slid across the carpet. The hinges were well oiled and did not creak, but the fluid motion of the door handle in his palm seemed to create a whirlwind of noise inside of him.

As his eyes took in the scene, he noted that it was the rush of adrenaline, a familiar sensation to him, that made him hypersensitive to his surroundings. And then his hand fell from the door.

Walter C. Dolnez frowned at the little girl in the white frock that leaned against Sir. Arthur's desk.

"My, my, but your heart is beating so fast!" Her small red lips parted into a grin as she spoke, revealing tiny pointed fangs.

The next instant the girl was upon the ground, invisible filaments wrapped tightly around her upper arms and neck, cutting hard enough to draw blood. Walter's foot pressed down against her chest, pulling at the delicate white material.

"Walter, desist at once!"

Walter froze at the sharp edge in Arthur's voice and, after a moment of hesitation, loosed the wires and stepped away from the girl. She smiled up at him with thinly veiled glee as she stood and patted non-existent dust from her clothes. The blood from the cuts seeped back beneath the folds of skin and then the cuts disappeared altogether, leaving her as perfect and pristine as ever. "How rude, Arthur, you told me he was trained."

Sir Arthur leaned back in his chair, covered his face with his hand, and heaved a great sigh. "Walter, get me some brandy."

Walter stood erect and ready to attack, the hairs on his neck and arms all on end. His eyes did not leave the girl and his legs did not move. "Sir…"

Arthur dropped his hand and glanced pointedly at the cabinet across the room in which he kept his favorite liquors.

Walter frowned and, without letting his attention from the vampire, crossed the room, opened the cabinet, and retrieved a sealed glass bottle and a small crystal cup. He walked back to Arthur's desk and poured a single glass. The man downed it and Walter poured him another. He sipped tentatively for a moment before setting it down with a soft _clink._

"Walter, I would like you to meet Alucard, Hellsing's servant and most powerful weapon." He nodded to the girl.

She waved at him with a gloved a hand and rocked back and forth upon her heels.

Walter had the violent urge to stare incredulously at Arthur and demand that he allow him to dispose of the demon who was currently beaming at the two of them. Instead he clenched his fists and reigned in his thoughts. Arthur was not a fool, and had even more experience with the paranormal than Walter himself did. He trusted the man's reason and decided that there was simply something he was missing here.

"I have withheld the knowledge of his existence to you until now because I was not sure of your position within this organization. Now that you are a positive asset, it is safe to reveal the Hellsing family secret. Walter, this is Alucard. A vampire that who was bound to my family by my grandfather."

Walter choked, "Did you say _his?_"

Sir Arthur gave an ironical smile. "Yes, despite his appearance, Alucard is a boy."

Walter stared at the grinning child who was now confirmed to be _male_. His eyes rested on the abnormally sharpened teeth and he repressed a shudder. Among other things.

"I don't understand."

Arthur sighed again. "Alucard has been here all along, carrying out missions separate from your own. Now, I want the two of you to work together." Despite his somewhat haggard appearance, Arthur was being quite patient about the whole thing. He knew how uptight and defensive Walter could be, he _expected_ it. If the boy were any other way he'd have died long ago. Now, to be asked to tolerate and uphold a relationship with the very creature which he had been taught to despise, to kill?

"Alucard is the person that I wanted you to meet. I have complete control over him and it is his duty to hunt and kill his own kind. Throughout all the world there exists no monster as deadly or efficient as he."

Alucard continued rocking back and forth and, upon catching Walters gaze, waved once more in a child like fashion.

"Do you have any other questions?"

Walter was brimming with questions, but couldn't seem to form the right words. At least, not in a way that wouldn't be totally and utterly rude. So, instead he opted to shake his head.

"Very well then, why don't the two of you take a walk? Get to know each other a little." Arthur said with a dismissive gesture. He then reached for the brandy and poured his third glass of the day at approximately seven fifteen AM.

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	2. Amaryllis

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MG: The flower Amaryllis symbolizes pride, which I had originally thought was perfect for Walter, buuuut, after reading this poem, I thought it fit Alucard more xD So its kind of for the both of them. Im sorry for the shortness of the chapters, but that just seems to be how they're turning out D: The good news is I've already started on the third!

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Amaryllis: Pride

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_When Amaryllis fair doth show_

_the richness of her fiery glow,_

_The modest lily hides her head;_

_the former seems so proudly spread _

_To win the gaze of human eye,_

_Which soonest brightest things doth spy._

_Yet vainly is the honor won,_

_since hastily her course is run;_

_She blossoms, blooms, -she fades, -she dies,-_

_they who admired, now despise._

--

**W**alter remembers the first time he'd been asked to kill. He knew it was coming, expected it, prepared for it. He thought that maybe, somehow, it would be a traumatizing experience, to hear those words out loud.

"_You must eliminate your target." You must kill._

He remembers being silently impassive, and Arthur's quietly searching gaze. Testing him. The words hadn't meant much, and he had nodded, replied with a confident _Yes Sir,_ and gone on listening to the mission details. Things after that had gone quickly, but he remembers them in vivid detail.

While many people will unconsciously block out unpleasant memories, repress them until nothing is left but an emptiness, Walter has always made a point to remember everything.

He'd been terrified.

Words meant very little to him, as far as emotional responses went, and so when the armored vehicle stopped at the end of dirt road, past the farthest outskirts of London and the faintest traces of city light- to find his heart racing and his mind screaming- it was odd.

It was new. Only later, as the men were cleaning up the mess, did he realize that he liked it.

Walter sat on a wide stump that was slightly damp. The air was cold and the sky was cloudy. No stars illuminated the fields or the dilapidated shack in which the vampire had resided. However, the trucks had their headlights on, pointing in various directions, and the beams were powerful enough to create long, tunnel like glimpses across the gravel and into the grass. He noticed all of these things, despite the shock that was still tingling at his fingertips and blotting his vision.

There was still so much adrenaline rushing through his veins that these things were impossible _not_ to notice. The thing that he noticed the most, however, was the blood. It remained in residual amounts on his wires, not normally enough to notice, but once they were pulled in and rewrapped around their metal rings they oozed. He watched as they dripped down onto the black fabric of his gloves, seeming to disappear. He watched as they dripped down to his fingernails and circled around them. It smelled strongly, everything smelled strongly, of the noxious coppery tang like licking a battery.

Blood. Somehow, it didn't seem right to him. He knew that it was what vampires existed off of, but Walter thought that they should have sand, or ash, or maybe a fine black powder sustaining them. It seemed wrong that such creatures would have such a warm, rich substance running through their veins. Then, Walter had done something which still makes his stomach turn.

Without even realizing it, he'd inclined his head just slightly and reached his hand up to lick at his fingers. They were paper white in the darkness, and where the few lines of blood were beginning to dry across them- they appeared to be severed; floating.

It tasted like human blood. Thin and coppery. Only after a moment of swirling the taste around in his mouth did he make a face, stand, spit with a particularly vicious noise, and wonder what the hell had possessed him to do such a thing.

On the way back to the mansion he told himself that it was the blood –dead blood- which had remained in however trace amounts inside his mouth that caused his stomach to ache.

Walter gazes out of his window now, recalling that night. Almost a year has past since then. It took a year of those nights, trudging through marshes and tip-toeing over rotted floorboards, combating the undead, for Arthur to fully trust him. He felt betrayed.

Then again, he reasoned, he wouldn't have trusted himself. Trust, in their profession, was both a very valuable and a very dangerous thing.

There is a light knock at his door and he jumps at the noise, fingers twitching in the air and eyes sharp. He scolds himself for it, silently angry at being caught off guard. As he walks to the door and opens it, he tries to mentally prepare himself for what waits on the other side.

"What do you want?" It sounds more like an order, than a question. He really should try and suppress his disgust, he supposes.

"Aw, don't be like that Walter," Alucard says his name in a way that is just too friendly, "Why don't you let me in?"

"Because there is no reason for you to be in my room."

"Then I think we should go on that walk."

"I think not."

Alucard pouts, crossing his arms. He could almost pass for a human girl, if it weren't for his red eyes and unnaturally white, sharp teeth. "Come on, we're going to have to work together you know, it won't be good if on our first mission we don't know anything about each other. Bad dynamics."

Walter doesn't know what to say. He is trained to deal with businessmen, with nobles, even royalty. Not kids, and not vampires, even if said vampire isn't really a kid.

So he doesn't say anything. He represses the urge to sigh as he steps from the warmth and comfort of his room, flicking the light switch to off and closing the door behind him. "Where do you want to go?"

Alucard positively beams at him. "Oh yay!" His small gloved hands reach for Walter's, to lead the other boy, but the young butler bats them away with a quick, subtle motion.

Alucard doesn't try again, but also doesn't give any indication that the objection bothered him. "Lets walk through the gardens, they're so lovely at night."

Walter follows at Alucard's side as they make their way through the halls. He thinks that Alucard doesn't even know what the flowers around Hellsing look like during the day, but doesn't say so.

The silence isn't exactly awkward, and it isn't exactly silent, either. Alucard hums something under his breath, half the noise sitting in his throat and half escaping in fragments of whispered words. Their feet make soft padding noises on the carpet and, as they are descending one of the grand staircases in the main hall, the wood creeks on every few steps.

A clock somewhere deep within the mansion chimes eleven.

They reach the main doors and for a moment Walter's heart stops. One of the doormen, an older gentleman, is stationed just ahead of them, waiting to greet anyone arriving or, in this case, departing. But Alucard continues on, as cheerful as ever.

"Hello Mr. Dorfknicker."

"Good evening Alucard, Walter. Going out?"

"For a walk, yes, we'll be back soon."

"Very well then."

The old man gives a friendly smile and Alucard returns it with a polite nod and a grin of his own. Walter watches in disbelief.

Once outside the mood lightens a little. The night air is cool and with the stars make the sky seem expanseless- Walter doesn't feel quite as… trapped. It would be difficult to fight inside, that's all. Out here he has much more maneuverability, as well as freedom to destroy the things around him.

They walk down a path with manicured rose bushes on either side of them, appearing black even in the moonlight. Walter glances over at the vampire who is quieter now, a more docile expression upon his face. He almost feels the need to say something. Almost.

After several minutes of shared silence Alucard stops to kneel at a bush with white roses, the only ones that really stand out. He brushes his fingertips over the petals lightly before breaking the stem off of one and standing back up. "Isn't it pretty?"

Walter stares at the vampire for a moment and doesn't answer the question. "What do you want? Surely you didn't bring me out here to show me flowers."

Alucard blinks in an innocent look so overpowering that it's disgusting.

"What the hell is your problem? How old are you, anyways? You have to be at least a hundred."

Alucard's hand drops to his side and he walks in front of the young butler. "You know, we're going to be together for a very long time."

"What?"

"For as long as you serve Hellsing. Because I will always be here."

"So what, have you been watching me from the very beginning?"

Alucard starts walking again. "I hate store bought roses, the thorns are always cut off. It's like they're stripped of all their defenses, left broken and naked to be bought by whomever might fancy them."

Walter shoves his hands into his pockets and follows the boy. Girl. Thing. His fingers search for the box he'd put into his pocket before leaving. When they find nothing he can't help the angry outburst.

"Where the hell are my cigarettes?"

Alucard glances back at him with one eye. "Your cancer sticks?"

"Yes, my bloody cigarettes! What did you do with them?"

Folding his arms over his chest, voice sweet, Alucard answers "And what makes you think I did something with them?"

Walter spins the vampire around by the shoulders, his hands gripping the small frame tightly enough to bruise. "You fucking creep, I swear to God I'll slice your head off if you don't quit messing with me."

Alucard eyes him for a moment, expression unreadable, before slipping from his grasp via demateralization. "Go ahead, take them, see if I care when they kill you." He holds the small box out.

Walter takes them and turns to go back the way they came. The vampire doesn't follow him, or call his name. He can, however, feel a heavy gaze on his back as he retreats. And that's what he is doing- retreating. It isn't until he is once more safely within his room that he realizes the white rose is tucked into his pocket, where the cigarettes usually rest.

He chucks it out the window and glares at the restless shadows surrounding the base of the building.

--


End file.
